


Life After Confusion

by deadinsidebutliving



Category: Original Work
Genre: Character Turned Into a Ghost, Dealing With Loss, Ghosts, M/M, ghost - Freeform, more like character is already dead, not really major character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-03-02 16:01:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18814255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadinsidebutliving/pseuds/deadinsidebutliving
Summary: Elliot is having a wonderful day, or at least he thinks he is. He doesn't remember anything before waking up in this... graveyard.





	Life After Confusion

_The outside is beautiful today, if a bit windy._ I stare up at the cornflower and cotton sky. _It’s certainly better than yesterday’s weather…_ _What was it again?_ I rack my brain, trying to come up with it. Nothing. _Well, that’s ok! I remember why I’m laying in this field!_ I try again, slightly alarmed that I couldn’t remember the first thing. I sit up, taking my hands off of my chest, a bouquet of flowers falling from my hand when I realize I don’t know why I’m laying here. _I at least remember my name!_ I search my memories of how I got here, who I am, anything, but I have nothing, not even my name. All I have is what’s right in front of me, so raking my hands through my hair and fighting down the swirling thoughts of fears, I take in the scene. I stand up and find that there is a gathering of people to the right. I walk over, trying to take deep breaths when no air seems to be getting to my lungs. I try to talk to someone, start asking questions, but I only get ignorance, and a refusal to even look at me from everyone I speak to. _What’s wrong with me?_ It seems as if they are trying to get me to sit down, to stop disturbing what was happening. _That must be why they’re ignoring me._ So I sit in the front row of a bunch of chairs on a flat green lawn with grey headstones dotting the landscape. _A graveyard_. There is a crowd around me, their faces blotchy from crying, and they’re all wearing black darker than midnight. I look at the people sitting beside me. I don’t know how I got here, or why I’m here, but their somber expressions warn me to not ask more questions, so I keep sitting on the metal fold-up chair. I turn to see where their eyes are falling and come across an ornate chestnut coffin, the carvings on the sides shining with the sun’s light, burning my eyes. A man gets up, the silver line of tears contrasting the red and blotchy skin. His eyelashes were clumped together with the wetness from his tears, and his voice croaked when he talked. He introduced himself as Callum, the husband of the dead. _He’s not even fifty._ He talked of adventures, of laughter, of love, of _life_. When he recounted the happy things, his voice seemed to be picked up by the melody of the wind, soaring on the joy. When he recounted the sad things, his words felt like a warehouse with nothing in it, empty and echoing, not how it should be. Whoever this man was, was surely loved dearly by this speaker. No words can describe the pain on his face, and though I had no idea who any of these people were, I found my eyes wet with tears of grief from his words. 

As Callum sat down, the place was silent for a few moments, only the whimper of whispered cries penetrating the quiet. A woman stood up, her long black dress being whipped wildly in the strong wind, the silky texture softly brushing my ankle, and I shivered with chills. She said it was time to pay our respects to the dead. Her voice was a church bell, ringing through the eerie silence that was left. As they started to stand, they got in line to get to the open casket. The somber line of dark characters would not open to let me in, they moved past me as if I didn’t exist to them. As the line finally finished passing me, I stood up to go visit the casket. As I moved forward, I felt strange, as if there was more than just who was here looking at me. I ignored it in favor of trying to get a glance of the person that this was for. The solid line of figures had not become any less dense, even as they stood in front of him. I decided to stand patiently behind them, clasping my hands together in front of me. Even still, the line remained solid. I turned around to go back to my seat when I saw that there were still a couple of people sitting down, who had not joined the rest up at the casket, I was confused as to why they hadn’t gotten up, or why I didn’t see them before. They stood out in comparison to the others there; their clothes were almost pearlescent instead of charcoal dust. One very pale figure made a move to stand up, and as he moved towards me, I could start to make out his face. It was wrinkled with lines, and he had a pure white beard, matching his equally pale body. His whole body was spectre-like and strange to me. He kept moving forward, and I realized he was walking towards me. 

“Welcome, Elliot Murphy. I’m glad you could have joined us. I’m sorry that it had to be so soon.” He said, reaching out his hand to hold my face, his eyes carrying the feeling of a parent telling their child that their dog wasn’t going to wake up. I felt a pang of familiar-  _ My name. How does he know my name? How did I not? Joined them for what? How did he know my name before I did?  _

“I- um I’m sorry, but I don’t d- uh, know you.” I started, my voice and head shaking. I moved my head out of his hand, even though I felt like I was hurting him. 

The man took a step back, suddenly confused. Another figure approached him, this time a woman. Her long hair sat beautifully on her shoulders, somehow not being entangled by the wind around us. She whispered something to him, and I looked down, my face heating up.  _ What did I do?  _ As my gaze stayed low, something seemed to be wrong with their feet. The blood that had tinted my face earlier suddenly drained as if no blood had been there in the first place. It seemed to me as if they were flying, their feet trailing off into nothing. My heart beat loudly in my ears.  _ What are those things?! Why is no one as scared as me? _ I tried to get everyone’s attention, yelling loudly. 

“Elliot! Calm down, you are alright mo laochain!” The man soothes, like he was approaching a cornered animal. I freeze upon hearing what he called me.  _ Mo laochain, my little hero. My mom. What? _

“Wh- what did you call me?” I say, still hyperventilating slightly. 

“Mo laochain, it's what I always called you.” He looked at me, trying to clue me in on something. 

A pang of realization. “Who- are you my, um, my. My dad?”

A laugh bellowed from the man, exploding out of his chest, “No, lad! I’m your great grandfather, Aapeli! I’m honored to have you call me that though, I must look half a century younger as a ghost!”

Blinking twice, I shook my head, “Ghost?” I said exhaling quickly, “But h- uh, how can I see you? And- um, how can they not?” I ask, feeling the tension in my shoulders increase, my body getting colder.

Aapeli’s face falls.  “Oh, lad, you haven’t seen it, have you?”

I take another step back, “Seen what?” I say, my stutter gone from the adrenaline rushing through my veins. 

“Oh lad, you haven’t remembered, have you. Seems your da’ didn’t properly teach you.” He looks at me, pitying eyes making my heart beat faster, almost hurting in my chest. Aapeli puts his hand on my shoulder, and I start, but don’t draw away, “Elliot, you’re dead.”

I cough, feeling as if my heart has been ripped out of my chest, “What?” I say, tears starting to form in my eyes, and my hands are over my eyes, hiding me from the world. Aapeli gathers me in his arms, slowly and steadily rocking me back and forth. Nothing feels right. My world is falling out from under me. Callum, my husband, my life, everything is wrong.  _ This isn’t real, I’m dreaming. _ I keep on repeating this, my breathing getting faster, and I’m getting dizzy.  _ How can I get dizzy? I’m… one of them.  _ And I can’t even admit to myself that things are the way they are. I can only sob as I watch the love of my life weep over my body. There are people trying to comfort him, and every fiber of my being wants to join them, but I’m being held by someone I don’t know, but who knows me and my life, and their arms are real, but we are not. I’m out of control over what happens now, nothing I can do to help the people that I’ve hurt. My hands on the steering wheel of life have been ripped off, my arms broken so as to make sure I never can take control again. All I can hear is Aapeli whispering to me “Mo laochain , it’s going to be alright, you’re okay.” And I can’t believe him yet, not while I’m still falling. 

But my family is there to catch me, as the tears slow, I see dozens of people around me, all are pale and ghostly, but they are there, and I stop resisting their comforts, melting into their arms. I may not be alright right now, but with my ancestors - my  _ family  _ \-  there to help me, so obviously full of love, arm outstretched, mouths bursting with words of comfort, falling out of them like waterfalls, I am at least safe, something that I’ve not been sure of since waking up. 

 


End file.
